A Spirit’s Voice

It is the dawn! the rosy day awakes;
  From her bright hair pale showers of dew she shakes,
  And through the heavens her early pathway takes;
  Why art thou sleeping!
  It is the noon! the sun looks laughing down
  On hamlet still, on busy shore, and town,
  On forest glade, and deep dark waters lone;
  Why art thou sleeping!
  It is the sunset! daylight's crimson veil
  Floats o'er the mountain tops, while twilight pale
  Calls up her vaporous shrouds from every vale;
  Why art thou sleeping!
  It is the night! o'er the moon's livid brow,
  Like shadowy locks, the clouds their darkness throw,
  All evil spirits wake to wander now;
  Why art thou sleeping!